Guys Night In
by Awahili
Summary: After Hodgins is taken by the "men in black," Zach is left without a ride or a place to crash for the night. Fortunately, Brennan knows just the place...and Booth is not to happy. Post ep for "Girl in Suite 2103" BONES IS BACK BABY! See AN inside...


Ok, I actually wrote this a while back. But for some reason it never got posted. Oops.

A continuation of 2x6: "The Girl in Suite 2103"

**It's Over! The Writer's Strike is coming to a close. Final negotiations on Monday, and Fox is already counting down to the next Bones episode (12 days and counting!) Which means a new eppy on the 22nd! WHOO HOO!!!!! I'm so excited, I'll probably write a lot more tonight, so expect a few one shots from me in the near future.**

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"Hodgins being abducted by men in black? It's a dream come true," he shared a smile with Brennan as Hodgins was led away. They stood in a companionable silence on the balcony watching Cam talk with Zach and Angela. Suddenly, Brennan gasped. 

"Oh no," she exclaimed, and Booth jumped.

"What?" he looked around for the source of her distress but found nothing.

"How long is Hodgins going to be in custody?" she turned to her partner.

"I don't know, I'm not exactly sure how he stopped that plane. They're going to have a lot of questions for him." Booth chuckled at the thought of Hodgins using his squint-speak against the State Department. "Why?"

"Because Zach lives above Hodgins' garage, and he doesn't drive." she told him. "He's got nowhere to stay tonight." Her eyes moved from Zach's form down below over to her partner and he stood up straight.

"No," he stated firmly, reading her mind. "Absolutely not."

"Oh come on Booth," she grabbed his arm and began leading him down to the platform. "Just for one night until Hodgins gets back."

"But Bones, it's Zach," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Booth, please. I would consider this a personal favor." He looked sidelong at her as they descended the staircase. She hadn't removed her arm from his, but he wasn't about to point it out and have her pull away. She didn't often initiate contact between them, so he was thankful for small gestures. As if sensing his thoughts, she pulled her hand back as they joined the others and he heaved an internal sigh.

"Zach," she said, gaining the young man's attention. "Since Dr. Hodgins won't be at home this evening, Booth has agreed to let you collapse at his place."

"It's crash, and I didn't – " he froze as Brennan whirled on him, an unusual expression on her face. Her features were impassive, but her eyes were nearly pleading. It was obvious to him that she cared a great deal about her grad student and, though Booth would never admit it out loud, he had become a little fond of the young anthropologist. " – have time to make up the guest room, so you'll be on the couch, Zach. Come on." He shot a look at Brennan – _you owe me _– and clapped the young man on the shoulder as he walked out. Zach looked confused for a moment and turned to his mentor.

"Dr. Brennan, I don't think –"

"It's alright, Zach," she smiled and pushed him toward the door. "Booth is harmless. Well, mostly harmless," she corrected with a smile. "Avoid conversing about football and you should be fine."

"I know almost nothing about football," he said, and Brennan smiled.

"You should be fine," she repeated, then leaned in conspiratorially. "He gets very upset if someone insults his Steelers."

"Yes I do," Booth said, suddenly appearing behind them. "Let's go, Zach," he grabbed the man's arm and began pulling him out the door. He almost shot an apologetic look at Cam but remembered their conversation earlier about keeping their relationship discreet. He was sure she wouldn't come by tonight.

The ride home was spent in a near-uncomfortable silence. Zach sat rigidly in the passenger seat staring out the windshield. After a quick stop by Zach's flat to pick up essentials for the night (prompting an impressed whistle at the sight of Hodgins' estate), they pulled up to Booth's apartment and exited the SUV quietly. Zach stayed behind Booth the whole way up, and Booth made no move to make conversation. He unlocked the door and, purely out of habit, let the younger man precede him inside.

"Uh, have a seat Zach," he gestured toward the couch. "I'm gonna go change." Booth walked quickly back into his room and changed into track pants and an old rock t-shirt. Moving back out to the living room, he found Zach sitting in exactly the same position. Booth chuckled and moved past him into the kitchen.

"Can I get you something to drink, Zach? Beer?"

"No, thank you Agent Booth."

"Okay then," Booth answered, grabbing one for himself. He propped himself against the breakfast bar and took a long swig. "Have any ideas about dinner? What do you usually do in the evenings? You and Hodgins have some sort of routine?"

"Well, we usually don't see each other outside of work, unless it's a weekend. I'm usually in my flat working on my dissertation or reading." Zach had stood as he spoke and he was now standing only a few feet from Booth, who was looking at him with a mixture of shock and disgust on his face.

"You mean you don't just get a guys' night?" he asked.

"No," Zach affirmed. "Unless you count a few nights of ice fishing with my brothers in Michigan."

"No, not brotherly stuff," Booth grimaced, remembering some not-too-fond memories of his own brother. "I mean guy stuff: drinking beer, watching sports, talking shop." Zach shook his head. "Your dad never took you out?"

"I have three brothers and four sisters," Zach informed him. "We didn't get a lot of alone time with our parents, which suited me just fine. I was always up in my room studying." Booth chuckled at the mental image of a young Zach hunched over a small microscope while a kindly woman nagged at him to get downstairs and play with his brothers.

"Well, how about I order us a pizza and we throw in _Die Hard_?" Zach's face scrunched in confusion.

"What's – "

"It's a movie, Zach," Booth smirked.

"Very well," Zach agreed, though he made no move to get up from his stool. Booth let out an exasperated sigh and picked up his phone. It was going to be a long night.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Booth had completely forgotten that the young man sitting next to him was Bones' socially awkward assistant. Zach had shown a dramatic penchant for being able to relax and go with the flow – something Booth thought he could teach his professor. Zach was leaning back against the sofa cushions polishing off a beer, his plate forgotten on the floor next to him. They had managed to finish a large pepperoni pizza with no trouble and Booth had only received mild protest when he demanded that Zach change out of his work attire.

Booth sat back and focused half of his attention on the movie. The other half he devoted to the man sitting next to him. Zach had always been a mystery to him. After more than a year, Booth had Bones figured out pretty well; he even understood Angela. Hodgins was odd, though Booth knew what it was like to be overshadowed by family and afforded the man a little respect at following his passions. But Zach was young and, if Angela was to be believed, not too unfortunate-looking. By his own admission he was not a virgin, though Booth couldn't quite imagine what type of girl had taken interest in the young scientist. Yet the boy was still uncomfortable in social situations and often looked to his older colleagues for guidance.

An hour into the movie Booth was no closer to understanding his companion than before. Giving a mental sigh, he realized that there was no other way to satisfy his curiosity; he was going to have to engage the young man in conversation. As the movie continued, Booth pondered on the best approach to get the young man to talk to him.

"How do you like the movie, Zach?" he tried. Though his eyes never left the screen, Zach divided his attention.

"It's interesting," he noted. "Violence has been integrated into the mainstream culture seamlessly, allowing anyone to experience the romanticism often associated with the stereotypical hero complex." Booth chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I think you're missing the point of this movie," he offered, earning him a very perplexed look from Zach.

"I don't understand. What purpose does this movie serve other than to distance ourselves from our real lives? Isn't that the entire idea behind entertainment – to take us away from our own lives for a while?"

"Well, yeah," Booth answered, "But movies like this…" he trailed off, trying to explain it in a way the rational being next to him would understand. "Most movies fall into two categories," he tried, offering an organizational pattern the boy could get behind. "There are good movies, and then there are fun movies. Good movies are thought-provoking; they offer an escape into a world that requires our full cooperation to enjoy. We have to be totally invested in it to fully appreciate it."

"I watched _Shawshank Redemption_ during my undergraduate studies," Zach looked hopeful. Booth smiled widely and slapped Zach on the shoulder good-naturedly.

"Exactly, that's a good movie. Fun movies are like this," he gestured to the screen, "where there's not a lot of story, just a lot of things blowing up and awesome action sequences."

"So when you ask 'How do I like the movie' my response should be?"

"Something less squinty than what you said," Booth smirked. Zach thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"It's cool," he said simply, earning him another hearty slap on the shoulder.

"We'll turn you into a normal person yet, Zach," Booth laughed. "Want another beer?"

"No, thank you Agent Booth."

"You know, we're not on duty now," he said as he gathered their trash, "But I understand if you don't want to use my first name. How about Booth? I'll go crazy if you keep calling me 'Agent Booth' all night." Zach nodded absently as his eyes returned once again to the screen. When Booth returned to the couch, Zach's focus had shifted to nothing in particular and he looked thoughtful.

"Booth, why do you keep calling Dr. Brennan 'Bones?' Although I've noticed she doesn't correct you anymore, she often told you not to call her that." Booth sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"You know, at first it was just annoy her; to get under her skin. You and her and Hodgins are so good at detaching yourselves that you sometimes detach completely from humanity. Sometimes the only time I could get a response from her was to annoy the daylights out of her."

"Dr. Brennan hates psychology," Zach noted.

"Only because she's a model case for any psychologist," Booth said, but quickly stopped himself. He respected his partner enough not to discuss her personal aspects with her grad student. "Truth is, Zach, that over time, when two people work together as closely as we do, their relationship changes. Eventually, I think she just got used to it; or she realized that no amount of complaining was going to stop me." Zach looked as if he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. "Zach, you have something to say?" Booth prompted.

"She's my professor," Zach shook his head, "It's not proper."

"Hey, this is a guys' night," Booth shrugged. "I promise I won't repeat anything you tell me."

"I think…" he started, took a breath, and tried again. "Ithinkshelikesit," he said quickly.

"Once more in English?"

"I think she likes it…when you call her Bones. I think it makes her feel more accepted; like she belongs." Booth sat stunned, staring at his companion.

"Was that actual insight from a squint?" he mocked. "The world must be ending…" Zach had the good grace to look offended at having been labeled anything but an empirical rationalist.

"It's an anthropological consistency that nicknames are bestowed upon those deemed worthy of the honor and –"

"No, don't cover it up with all that scientific mumbo jumbo," Booth cut him off. "You had a genuine insightful, from-the-gut thought about something other than a pile of bones."

"Don't tell Dr. Brennan," the boy looked fearful now, and Booth couldn't resist laughing.

"Ah, it's probably too late to change your doctorate anyway," Booth joked. He checked the clock and noted it was only a little after eight. Realizing that _Die Hard_ had been abandoned he shut off the TV and stood. "Come on," he grabbed his keys and pulled a confused Zach out the door.

"Where are we going?"

"To get some physical exercise," Booth answered. They walked down the stairs and, instead of heading out the front toward the parking area, Booth led them to a back door. The hallway wound around past a pool area and a room that held a lot of exercise equipment. Still clueless, Zach followed Booth into another doorway only to emerge into what looked like a good replica of his high school gymnasium.

"What are we doing here?" Zach asked as Booth moved over to a ball rack and pulled a basketball down.

"Shooting some hoops," he said, dribbling a few times. "Let's go, genius." Zach followed him onto the court to an empty area with a ten-foot hoop. Booth dribbled it around a few times before shooting. Zach watched the ball sail up and bounce off the rim.

"You seemed to have miscalculated the trajectory," he stated, earning him a glare.

"You know what, Zach," Booth said as he retrieved the ball, "For the next half hour, you're not allowed to use words with more than three syllables."

"Your aim was off?" he tried again, and the glare returned. But this time Booth pulled in and threw the ball at Zach's chest. Out of instinct his hands went up and the ball fell neatly into his grasp. He held it in front of him like some foreign specimen he dared not to get too close to.

"Basketball, Zach," Booth sighed. "You bounce it a few times then toss it up and try and get it in the basket." He pantomimed dramatically as he spoke, hoping to get through to the younger man. "You never played?"

"My older brothers tried to get me to play when I was younger," Zach said. "But they never really taught me _how_ to play. They were more interested in shoving me around." Realizing he had revealed more than he intended, he focused on bouncing the ball a few times. Once the motion had become monotonous, he grasped the ball with both hands and took aim. Shoving from his chest, the ball soared through the air and swished under the net.

"Not bad," Booth offered, "But you need to arc it in, like this." He picked the ball up and demonstrated. The ball arched way above the rim and sailed down cleanly through the net. Zach got the ball and tried again, this time succeeding in bouncing the ball off the backboard and back at Booth.

"Okay, a little too much force there," Booth said. "I think it's the way you're shooting. Here, try this."

He spent the next several minutes detailing and demonstrating how to shoot a basketball and, once he was satisfied Zach had the basic idea, he gave the ball back. Zach went through the preparations as he was taught – palming the ball, holding it out in front of him, reeling his arm back, placing his left hand under the ball, and pushing up and out with his right arm. The ball went up in a beautiful arc, ricocheted a little off the rim, and sank into the basket.

"There you go!" Booth cheered, and Zach couldn't help the grin on his face at the praise. They shot around for a while until Booth declared Zach was "ready."

"That sounds ominous," Zach said. "Ready for what?"

"Horse," Booth stated.

"There are no eque – horses here," Zach corrected himself just in time.

"It's a game," Booth explained. "I shoot from any spot I want and, if I make it, you have to shoot from the same place. If you make it, the game continues. If you miss, you get a letter. If you spell 'horse' you lose."

"How do _you_ get letters?"

"If I miss it now, then you get to shoot from anywhere. Same thing, look let's just play and you'll pick it up." The game continued on for a while, but Booth was obviously the more experienced player. Zach had H-O-R-S while Booth only had H.

"I concede," Zach said, "There's no conceivable way for me to win this game." Booth wiped the sweat from his forehead and shrugged before returning the ball to the rack. They walked back in silence until Zach cleared his throat.

"Thank you. For teaching me, I mean."

"Don't mention it," Booth said unlocking his door. "I'm gonna take a shower then hit the sack. I'll grab some blankets for you," he moved quickly back to his linen closet and pulled down a sheet and a comforter. As he walked back toward the living room he saw Zach practicing his shooting motion in the air. He paused quietly in the hallway and observed the youth.

He seemed torn between two worlds – between desperately wanting to fit in with the social norm and being exiled away because of his intelligence. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Brennan in the small diner in New Orleans. They were a team, he decided. Sure, Bones was his partner, but her team was now his team too. He had known for quite a while now that he would go to any lengths for his partner. He realized as he stood in the hallway observing the youngest member of his Squint Squad that that loyalty was rapidly extending to all of them. And he should probably endeavor to be a little nicer to them.


End file.
